Not the Truman Show

 

We are either cause or effect in our life. Making things happen, or reacting to things in motion. Leading how we want our life to look, or following what is already happening. Causing has power -- empowerment -- we are the source, the engine, the creator. Being at the effect has no power -- no artistry -- a constant reply to someone else's email. And we are off the hook. We can complain that it is someone else's design, it's their fault, because they did it. It's easier not to cause, to allow others to lead, to be at the effect of life. It's never our responsibility. And yet, what is the impact? We are left at the end with a life that isn't our own, a Truman Show, governed by the man in the moon. What if we sailed to the edge of that world, and stepped out? What could it look like? What might be create, build, design, write, lead? Lots of unknowns, of mistakes, accidents, messy fumbling through, as we learn and grow. And yet it is at least our life, and something we made. And at the end, we have a life with the full palette of an artist who created something that is ours.

Rhythm

What is the rhythm of our week? From the moment we wake up on Monday morning to the time we sleep Sunday night. 

How much time do we spend doing different things in our day? Time in the washroom, getting dressed, eating meals, commuting, working? Conversations with people, with our family, with our partners, our kids; playing cards and board games, watching screens. 

And how much do we guide and create the rhythm? Or are we floating through at the effect of our schedule, out of control, bouncing through life at the whim of our circumstances. What might our days look like if we were to take charge? To explore what our rhythm could look like, feel like? 

How would we design our day so that we actually enjoy it; where we are productive and appreciative; a rhythm that fits our natural strengths, as a morning person, or a night hawk; a balance that includes breaks, time in nature, time to connect, and time to be alone. Time to get things handled, and time to have adventures, reflect, read, relax. 

Starting ... now...

Bueller Bueller?

What is the quality of the time we spend in each moment in our day? On the continuum of present to away, where do we stand?

Times when we're present, engaged in the moment, soaking it in. Other times when we're physically there, but mentally absent -- distracted, away, in our thoughts, escaping? If we were to graph our experience, what might it look like? How often are we present with the life we're living? For all those moments we are away, we are missing our lives, missing our kids' questions, missing moments of intimacy with our partners, missing our life.

Is this the kind of life we want to look back on? An absent life, drifting through, physically there, but a spiritual ghost. And what's the impact of ghosting our own lives? The impact on our kids, our relationships, our work. The question for us all to answer is, what kind of quality of life do we truly want? At the end of the day, looking back, how do we want it to be?

And then start creating it now.

Puzzle

My mission this year is to integrate the rhythm and elements of our family canoe trip into our every day city lives. The quality time in nature, cooking meals on a fire, playing card games with the kids, lying in a hammock, reading a novel! Moving and using our bodies, carrying things over portages, paddling all day, resting on a beach, laughing, playing, washing dishes in the rain, setting up a tarp -- I love setting up tarps, and huddling under as a family, protected, with a fire burning, boiling water, preparing food, feeling the cool water and wind, not being comfortable all the time. The biggest change I noticed was the beautiful impact of having no phones, no screens -- locking my cell phone in the glove box of the car. Taking the screen out. It changes everything. 

So, back in the city, in my real life, I've been bringing elements over to the rhythm of our everyday life. Locking the cell phone away. I even bought a box and found a dead bolt with a timer on it, so I can lock it up, and not be able to get it for 2 hours -- a glove box in our house. We opened a 500 piece puzzle the other day. I hadn't done a puzzle in 20 years. The kids didn't know puzzles. And yet, we were all drawn to it like the pull of a warm fire hearth. I'd see River spending hours looking for the corner pieces. Sikhona and River coming together to separate out the side pieces from the centre pieces. Rowan and Mary-Kate wandering over to work on the cabin area. This beautiful space we have been lured into, a space of wonder and creativity, where time slows, a kind of meditation, and connection, laughter, and random yells of joy, when a piece is found. The kids invited us over to put the last piece in all together, a ritual to close out the experience. 

And onto the next calling -- 1000 pieces!